


Hidden

by Pi (Rhea)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-23
Updated: 2011-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-26 11:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea/pseuds/Pi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hungary never wears her hair up. Written for kink bingo prompt "body part fetish, other".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hidden

Hungary almost always keeps her hair down. Austria loves Hungary's hair, it's long and thick. It twins easily through his fingers. Hungary combs it twice a day and sometimes complains about the tangles, but its always beautiful to Austria. Perhaps Hungary's hair was one of the first features that attracted him. She has a gorgeous body. He knows that and is always greatful. When she presses close against him in a soft hug, or when her breasts brush his arm in the chaos of the kitchen Austria knows he's the luckiest man in the world.

Some days when Hungary gets frustrated with her hair, or the time she hurt her arm, Austria helps her comb it. It lays over his fingers, more precious than gold. One of those days, as he's combing her hair, it happens. Hungary helps him part her hair into two sections, one over each shoulder. "It's easier than tackling it all at once" she explains.

Austria carefully combs each part. The divide reveals the curving back of her neck. Austria finds himself stopping. Hungary's hair damp and heavy in one hand and the comb in the other. Hungary's head is bent forward, to allow him better access to her hair. Austria can't help running the backs of his knuckles, comb clenched tight in his hand, across her neck. Hungary shivers a little. She swats at him with her hand,  
"That tickles!" She says. Then when he doesn't resume combing. "Can you please finish with my hair?" Austria shakes himself out of his daze and quickly goes back to combing. He's almost sad to comb the two parts back together. Her hair falls back into place, like a curtain closing, to obscure her neck again.

After, Austria finds himself watching for it. He gets brief, not-quite glimpses when she brushes her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her wrist. He finds himself endlessly distracted on hot summers when she constantly pulls her hair off the back of her neck. She fluffs it up and down her hair pushing air against the back of her neck. It reveals briefly the sweat beaded skin beneath. Austria doesn't think Hungary notices, and Hungary never wears her hair up.

Even when she's fighting Hungary's hair is down. It streams behind her like a banner. Her hair is heroic. She tucks flowers behind her ear and her hair smells sweet. He wraps his fingers in her hair, pulling gently when they have sex and she groans. He tugs a lock of her hair to get her attention when she's busy. Austria still loves Hungary's hair. He loves how it smells and how it looks and how it feels in his hands. But he's grown to resent her hair a little too. It's a ridiculous resentment. Hungary is not trying to hide the back of her neck.

Austria brings it up, subtly, once. Hungary gave him a confused look and rubbed at the back of her neck.  
"I like wearing my hair down." Hungary says looking at him oddly.  
Austria quickly nodds, "Yes, right of course," and kisses her. She still gives him the occasional curious look for a few days afterward. He thinks she eventually forgets. Austria doesn't ask.

Then, one afternoon Austria rounds a corner, following the sound of Hungary's cheerful humming and finds her on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor. Her apron is damp, her hands covered in suds, and her hair is swept up, pinned under the cloth of her head-kerchief. Austria stutters to a stop. Hungary doesn't see him, bending her head down to inspect the floor more closely. The curve of her neck is accentuated by small curling hairs that seem to cling there. One lock of her hair has escaped, hanging down the side of Hungary's neck. Hungary brushes it impatiently out of the way. It is the perfect compliment: Hungary's beautiful hair and her gorgeous neck. Austria sucks in a breath. Hungary must hear him, because she turns, sitting up. Austria wants to tell her not to, her neck rehidden as she stands shaking her hair back down. Austria stands frozen as she crosses to him. Her head is cocked to the side and the curious look is back. It turns into a smile which curves wider as she steps right up to him.

She walks him back against the railing of the stairs. Her eyes turn down, lashes fluttering across her cheeks as she slowly arches her neck, sweeping her hair up and off her neck. Austria stifles his gasp, but when Hungary presses even closer against him, he lets his hands lift to trail across the small hairs of the back of her neck. Hungary shivers. Austria firms his touch, kneeding in just a little. Hungary turns around. She leans back against him and pulls her hair around to the front, farther off her neck. Austria gives in to the urge that's been posessing him for months and leans in to lick across the base of her neck.

He starts at the join of one shoulder and laves all the way to the other. He points his tongue and flicks it in between the vertabrae like a ladder climbing to the nape of her neck. He bites the juncture of one shoulder. Hungary is trembling, leaning back harder as if unable to support her own weight. He resists the temptation to rub forward against her. Hungary takes the decision out of his hands when she pushes her hips back against him. Austria lets the banister hold him up. He pulls Hungary to his chest so they're both leaning back. His hips angle up into the curve of her behind. Hungary's skirts cover his legs, falling in excess ripples of cloth around them. Hungary's hands are fisted in the cloth, Austria pries one off, lacing her finger with his own. He bites down again and she squeezes his hand. Austria is rutting against her now. There in the hallway against the stair railing Hungary's breath heaves in her chest and Austria kisses his release into her neck in a long hot groan.

Austria wakes up in bed. Hungary lies on her side next to him, the naked curve of her side warm in the late afternoon light. Her hair is swept up over the pillow. It flows and curls, stretching towards him. The back of her neck soft against the pillow. Austria reaches forward to brush his fingers across the back of her neck. Hungary jerks.  
"It really does tickle you know." She says rolling to face him. She's smiling. "I used to wear my hair up...well in a ponytail, when I was a kid." She says. Her eyes are bright. Austria nods, unable to speak. Hungary only smiles wider and slides in close to kiss him. "You'll see" she whispers and Austria can't wait.


End file.
